


A Role to Play

by laurelofthestory



Category: Spiral Knights
Genre: Anxiety, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Doomed friendship, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelofthestory/pseuds/laurelofthestory
Summary: The Alpha Squad; three legends...and then her. Parma, the recon fresh out of academy, in desperately over her head. But her being nervous is her problem, not anyone else's. After all, they barely know each other...right?A heart-to-heart in the Starlight Cradle.





	A Role to Play

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on October 2nd, following the Inktober prompt "Tranquil."
> 
> I write a lot for these guys, but this is the first I've ever posted. Credit to my friends Burai and SassyDragon for encouraging me on this nonsense.
> 
> Who would've thought giving a character your anxiety would mean it would hit you close to home?

“…This almost feels like a  _real place_.”

The words slipped out before she could think to stop them, a quiet murmur as she stared into the stars overhead. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until someone pointed it out, startling her out of her reverence.

“As opposed to  _what_ , exactly?”

Parma jumped, head whipping back down to face the others. Rulen was sitting on the other side of the campfire from her, dark blue eyes watching her carefully behind his glasses as he awaited an answer. As usual, he was unreadable.

“W-well–-I mean–-” Parma stumbled over her words, instinctively trying to hide in her scarf.

“She means as opposed to the rest of the clockworks,” Grantz supplied, without looking up from his current task–-having borrowed Rulen’s heater shield, he was now using it to cook some wolver meat from the previous stratum. Their field rations were going to have to stretch for longer than they expected, and besides, none of them were eager to go back to bland, dry rations after letting Grantz cook for the first time.

Parma nodded, pulling herself into a more upright sitting position. “Yes, exactly. A lot of the rest of the areas we’ve been in so far have been very…artificial.  _This_  place looks like it could be…I don’t know, on a real planet somewhere.”

She gestured out at the landscape surrounding them. Indeed, the mechanical nature of the Clockworks was almost imperceptible, here. There were a few support struts that could be seen in the far distance, and the sound of grinding gears was still everpresent, though faint. And yet, the rest of the land was natural, an endless expanse of floating islands lazily drifting along in a sea of twinkling stars, underneath a bright full moon. The whole place was bathed in an azure glow that seemed to make everything a little softer around the edges, a light breeze gently brushing the grass and bushes.

Of course, what they had dubbed the ‘Starlight Cradle’ wasn’t nearly as tranquil as it seemed–-the four of them had spent a very long day navigating the dangerous maze of an area, and it turned out that the floating islands were home to a new sort of slime none of them had seen before, capable of secreting a sedative mist that had caught them off guard. Just an hour previously, Grantz had been forced to carry both Parma and Rulen, unconscious, one under each arm, out of a lair of the things. But they’d managed to find what looked to be a quiet enough area to set up camp for the ‘night’, and though they all knew the silence couldn’t be trusted, Parma hadn’t been able to find any threats nearby.

Rulen looked around as if he were sizing up the area, before giving a noncommittal huff in reply to Parma and going back to looking at his holographic display (he was refining his Arsenal blueprint for the umpteenth time, it looked like.)

Parma let out a long sigh, gaze dropping to the floor. She cursed herself for saying something like that–-they all still barely knew each other and had never really  _talked_ casually in any capacity. Apparently, Grantz and Euclid had worked together during some Morai engagements, but other than that, the four of them had only met in a Stranger’s shop a day before deployment. There was no personal connection between them all; just three knights experienced at the top of their fields, and her, a prodigy.

Clearly, _they_  weren’t having any problems with the mission so far, so  _she_  shouldn’t, either–-or at least, none of the others should have to deal with them. That wasn't their job.

“…I wonder why that is.”

Parma glanced up, surprised. Euclid was spread out by the fire, propping himself up with his hands behind him, seemingly deep in thought.

“What do you mean?” Parma asked.

Euclid shifted around to face her better. “The gremlins don’t bother making  _most_ areas look this realistic. Why are here and the Wildwoods different?”

“I’m starting to become convinced the gremlins didn’t build this at all.”

All eyes turned to Rulen, who’d raised his head from the blueprint still floating in front of him. The staring made him scoot back a bit, not quite looking at any of them.

“Then who did?” Euclid prompted, after a moment’s silence.

“I’ve had this theory for a while now that they couldn’t build anything nearly this advanced. Even if they could, they’d have no clear  _reason_  to, and there’s  _always_  a reason.”

The others waited for Rulen to continue, but he just went back to his hologram. Parma chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe this was all built by something–some…race we haven’t seen yet, something closer to the core?”

Grantz grunted, “Maybe there isn’t a reason this time, kid. Either way, figuring that out’s not what we’re here to do. Steak’s done, eat up-–we’ll all need our strength.”

* * *

Parma couldn’t sleep that night.

It probably had something to do with the fact that she’d been sleeping for most of the day, courtesy of the slimes, but she found herself restless. She was still kicking herself for almost letting her misgivings slip, and her mind was racing with possibilities from the earlier discussion-–if the gremlins hadn’t made this place, who had? What  _was_  waiting for them at the core?

…Would they ever return to the surface? And if they  _did_  find this power source they were searching for…

The landscape had made her terribly homesick.

Or, perhaps homesick wasn’t the right word–Isora was ‘home’, and it was not much like this at all. But it made her sick for the time before. The sky here reminded her of the infinite cosmos she could catch a glimpse of staring out the window of the Skylark, before everything had gone wrong and become confusing and despite their desperate situation there was still hope out there, the chance at something  _new._

Now, she was in over her head, and she knew it.

Parma stood up. The scouting battle sprite that had been ‘resting’ beside her head made a few mechanical chirping sounds as its eyes lit up and its neon wings manifested, and it flew up to her side. The campfire had long faded to crackling embers, and Euclid and Rulen were sleeping nearby, Euclid ramrod-straight and Rulen curled in on himself with his glasses off to one side. Grantz had, of course, gone on watch patrolling the campsite–-he’d offered, and as it would likely take at least ten of those slimes to even  _try_  to knock out someone like him, he was the obvious choice. Euclid had offered to relieve him in a couple of hours, but they all knew that Grantz never woke anyone else up to take watch, even during the rare times they could get a full night’s rest rather than a few hours.

The group had set up camp near the edge of one of the floating islands-–perhaps not the most strategic position, but it left them with fewer sides open to a nighttime attack. As quietly as she could manage, Parma slipped away from the remains of the fire and off towards the island’s border a handful of meters away, her sprite following after.

The floating islands had nothing but a small raised lip of dirt serving as a railing between the island and the endless blue expanse below. Standing so close to it made her nervous, so Parma sat down near the edge, scooting herself as close to it as she could without feeling a terrible sense of vertigo. After a moment’s consideration, and a look around to make sure she hadn’t been followed, she pulled off her helmet and set it by her side, letting her short, crimson-pink hair be gently stirred by the slight breeze.

It really was beautiful, she thought as she stared off into the distance. True, the moon hanging above was likely artificial, but for an illusion, it was a pretty good one–-better than most she’d seen so far. It was peaceful, and even though one of the first things a Recon Knight had to learn was that peace was often deceiving, she decided she didn’t mind being deceived by it right then.

It felt like ages since she’d been able to be alone like this, even if the expedition probably hadn’t been going on that long. True, she’d always wanted to go on some grand adventure, but she’d always thought whatever that adventure was, she’d at least have a decent chance at making it back from it, and at least she’d be going somewhere  _real_ , after all those years in training simulations. She hadn’t expected it to be like this, her tagging along with a trio of legends while fumbling about and having absolutely no idea what she was doing the vast majority of the time, trying to keep it together and act professional when she wasn’t sure she  _was_ , yet.

She wasn’t sure how long she spent just sitting there before her scout let out a few warning chirps and she heard footsteps in the grass nearby. Parma jolted from her thoughts and scrambled to put her helmet back on.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She froze in place, her helmet halfway to her head. “Are…you sure?”

“Yes.”

Parma slowly lowered the helmet back down. “I thought you were keeping watch.”

Grantz took the cue to sit down next to her, setting his massive tower shield aside. He really was large, for an Isoran-–probably twice her height, and the guardian’s armor he wore made him look even bulkier than he probably was. Parma always felt intimidated standing next to him, not helped by the fact that she was a bit short by Isoran standards, herself.

“I went to check on the others,” Grantz replied, simply, “I saw you weren’t there and got worried.”

“Oh, I’m fine…” Parma crossed her legs underneath her. “Just, uh, needed some air.”

Grantz nodded, though she got the sense that he didn’t quite believe her, with the way his eyes seemed to be  _searching_  her. It made her vaguely uncomfortable.

And then, to her surprise, he pulled off his own helmet, setting it by his shield. His hair, like most Isorans, matched his color-–cyan, in this case–-though he had his buzzed practically to his scalp. His expression was difficult to read, but not unkind.

“Do you need to talk?”

Parma pressed her lips together. “I…It’s not important, nothing you guys should worry about. We need to focus on the mission.”

He let out a long breath that was almost a chuckle. “I’ve  _been_  a rookie. You’re very talented, but you’re still new at this.”

Parma’s face went warm with embarrassment and she looked away. Was it that obvious that she was flying blind? Of course, he’d notice–-sometimes she forgot how much older and more experienced the Guardian was than the rest of them, even Euclid.

“You were quiet after dinner.”

“Sh–shouldn’t you still be patrolling?”

“My sworn duty is to protect you all. There are more ways to do that than just carrying a shield.”

Parma bit her lip, her gaze turning downwards over the edge of the island as her hands clasped in front of her. She did not respond.

“…A good team has to be able to trust each other.” His voice was surprisingly soft, with a note of earnesty that made her look back up at him again.

“I…” Parma sighed, “I hate how fake all this is.” She paused a moment, waiting to see how Grantz would react. His expression didn’t change, but he nodded for her to go on, and so she did, the words all tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, yes, I know we’re on an important mission on an unknown planet searching for something that’ll save our people and it’s kind of selfish of me to think this but–-after all those years I thought I’d finally go somewhere  _real_ , to explore some big unknown uncharted place, but here I am in this–this  _fake_  patchwork world that it’s impossible to understand looking for something we don’t even know exists, already swarming with creatures who’ve made this place their home and now I don’t know if  _they_  have the answers either but I’m  _supposed_  to have the answers because that’s kind of my _job_  except I’m not doing a really good job because  _I don’t know what’s going on_ , most of the time, and  _I shouldn’t be here._ ”

It had all been things she’d wanted to say for a long while, now, but she hadn’t expected to say quite that much. Her fists clenched in front of her and she refused to look at Grantz, her mind telling her how stupid she must sound to him.

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and flinched.

“That’s a lie. You  _should_  be here.”

Parma hunched over a bit. “But why not just get Desna? Or one of the  _real_  Recon Rangers?”

“I know the Captain, and I know he had his reasons. And I also know that you don’t have all the answers. If you did, you’d be a researcher, not a recon.”

“But-–”

He squeezed her shoulder lightly to stop her. “A recon’s job is to find out what they can about the environment and the enemy, so the rest of the squad can make decisions with that information in mind. It isn’t the same as knowing everything. And you’ve done that. You found and warned us about that massive predator in the Wildwoods and its weakness to loud noises. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d have been ambushed.”

Grantz spoke as if this was objective fact, but not in the same way Rulen spoke of objective fact-–it was in a way that made it sound like it was obvious, though not in a condescending manner. As if he were reminding her of something he knew she already knew.

“Captain Ozlo decided you needed to be here for a  _reason._ ”

“I guess.” There was no way she could argue with that reasoning without insubordination, and really, she held the Captain in the highest respect-–at about the same level as Desna, her longtime hero. “But I don’t think I know enough.”

“Learning’s also a recon’s job.”

“No, I mean, I’m-–” Parma gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m sort of…I don’t have any kind of plan for what I’m doing, ever.”

Grantz let out a real chuckle this time. “Do any of us? Don’t tell him I said this, but Euclid doesn’t have things figured out as much as he likes people to think.”

Parma’s eyes went wide. “Wait, really?  _Euclid?_  But he’s a  _legend,_ he’s-–”

“-–an Isoran, like you,” Grantz finished, matter-of-factly. “We’re stubborn, and we don’t always think things through. And no, Euclid doesn’t know everything, either. That’s why he  _needs_  a recon. You.”

Parma opened her mouth, but couldn’t find any words, her eyes wide as she stared up at Grantz. It was totally plain and genuine, and yet it  _rattled_  her. She always felt like a tag-along, not someone who was really  _needed._

“No one knight can do everything. That’s why the Order exists. That’s why no knight goes alone if they can help it. That’s why we’re a  _team._  Remember that.” Grantz dropped his hand from her shoulder and shifted in place as if preparing to stand up. “I should go back to patrolling the perimeter. Will you be okay?”

Parma took a few seconds to respond, not quite trusting herself to speak immediately. “I…guess?”

“At least think about it.”

“I will.”

She wasn’t entirely sure she could  _avoid_  thinking about it even if she wanted to.

Grantz put his helmet back on and took up his shield, standing in a clatter of armor plates. She looked up at him, hands in her lap, watching as he turned to leave.

“Wait.” Grantz turned around. Parma fumbled with her words for a few moments before giving a simple, “…thank you.”

Grantz nodded once in reply, turned, and left Parma alone with her thoughts. She watched him walk away for a few moments before turning back to the endless blue emptiness beyond the edge of the island.

It really was pretty. Even the distant sound of grinding gears was quiet enough to be soothing.

She still felt as if another Recon Knight could’ve done a better job than her, but…even if that was the case, somehow  _she_  was the one here now, and they’d come too far to go back. Recon was  _her_  job, and she’d do it the best she could, for the sake of everyone and everything lost on Isora…and for the sake of the  _team_.

Maybe the four of them _should_  talk more. Maybe they had something in common. After all, they were going to be each other’s only company for a long time yet. What could it hurt, getting to know them? Asking about what Rulen was working on, or asking Euclid to tell stories about himself and his heroic exploits–he seemed to be the type to enjoy that.

She laid down on her back, staring up towards the false moon, her scout settling itself back into sleep mode beside her. Maybe this whole situation wasn’t so bad. It may have been a simulation, but how many knights were going to get to see a view like  _this?_  Probably plenty, she chided herself, as half of their mission was clearing a path for future Order members, but–still, they’d been the  _first_  Isorans to lay eyes on it, without even knowing where they were going. That in itself had to be a  _little_ special, right?

She couldn’t help but imagine what else they’d find along the way.

Parma did not notice when thoughts turned to dreams, and she fell asleep, there on the edge of the Starlight Cradle.


End file.
